The bedroom door didn't just open; it was assaulted.

Beatrice Sterling, the Grand Dame of the family, marched in. She leaned heavily on a cane topped with a silver eagle, but she moved with the energy of a tank. Behind her trailed Sophia Sterling, Harrison's aunt. Sophia looked soft, wearing cashmere and pearls, but her eyes were scanning the room like a shark looking for blood.

So this is it? Beatrice pointed the cane at Sera. This is the trash the Quinns sent us?

Sera dropped her head. She hunched her shoulders, making herself look smaller, frailer.

Look at her. She's shaking like a leaf. Beatrice turned to the two massive bodyguards behind her. Get her out. Send her back. I'm voiding the check. This is fraud.

The guards stepped forward. One grabbed Sera's arm. His grip was bruising.

No! Please! Sera squeaked. She looked at Harrison.

Harrison sat on the bed, his face blank. He was going to let them take her. If she left, her mother died.

Sera yanked her arm free. She threw herself onto the floor at Harrison's feet, wrapping her arms around his legs. She buried her face in his knee.

Harrison! Don't let them take me! Not after last night! she wailed.

The room went dead silent.

Sophia stepped forward, her eyes narrowing. What about last night?

Sera looked up, tears streaming down her face. She made sure her cheeks were flushed.

We... we consummated the marriage. I'm his wife. In every way.

Beatrice looked like she had swallowed a lemon. Impossible. Harrison is... incapacitated.

Sera pointed a trembling finger at the bed. The sheets were rumpled. And right in the center, a small, dark reddish-brown stain marred the white Egyptian cotton-the result of Sera using the tip of a hidden needle to draw a bead of her own blood from her fingertip just moments before they entered.

Sophia looked at the stain. She looked at Sera. A flicker of calculation crossed her face. If Harrison had actually slept with her, annulling the marriage would be messy. Public. And if the girl was pregnant...

Harrison felt the heat of Sera's body against his legs. He felt the way her hands were gripping him-not in fear, but in warning. She was playing them.

He hated Beatrice. He hated Sophia. And this girl... this girl was lying through her teeth with the skill of a sociopath.

He decided he liked it.

Let her go, Harrison said. His voice was low, dangerous.

Beatrice bristled. Harrison, don't be stupid. She's a gold digger.

She's my wife, Harrison said. And she stays. Unless you want to explain to the press why you're dragging a weeping woman out of my bed the morning after my wedding?

Sophia put a hand on Beatrice's arm. Mother. Leave it. If he wants the stray dog, let him keep it. It won't last a week anyway.

Beatrice glared at Sera. You. One toe out of line, and I will destroy you.

They turned and left, the guards following.

The moment the door closed, Sera released Harrison's legs and stood up. She wiped her face with the back of her hand. The tears stopped instantly.

Harrison smirked. Nice performance, Mrs. Sterling.

Sera smoothed her dress. You too, Mr. Sterling.

Why did you lie? Harrison asked.

Because I need to stay here. And you need someone who isn't trying to kill you.

Harrison's smirk vanished. What makes you think you can stop them?

Sera walked to the window and watched Beatrice's car drive away.

I don't just want to stop them, Harrison. I want to make them pay. But we need a real deal. No more lies between us.

She turned back to him.

I have a proposition.

Sera walked to the door and engaged the deadbolt. She checked the signal detector app on her phone-a hidden program she'd coded herself. The cameras were video only, no audio.

She walked back to Harrison and sat on the ottoman in front of him.

I know your blindness is toxicological, not traumatic, she said.

Harrison's knuckles turned white on the head of his cane. Who sent you?

No one. I'm a doctor. A real one. Not the quack you have on payroll.

Harrison scoffed. You're twenty-three. You're a college dropout.

"I won a full, anonymous scholarship to Johns Hopkins at fifteen. The Quinns never knew. They thought the checks they sent were for a low-tier state college. I lived a double life, Harrison. The money they thought was for rent and books? It paid for my burner phones and encrypted hard drives. I graduated at nineteen under a name they'd never find. I'm a ghost. The Quinns just paid for the sheets I used to disappear."

She leaned in. Your symptoms. Photophobia. Muscle spasms. The sweet smell on your breath. It's a cumulative neurotoxin. Dr. Lewis is poisoning you.

Harrison went very still. He had suspected it. But hearing it said aloud made the rage boil in his gut.

What do you want?

My mother's trust fund. The Quinns stole it. And her necklace. It's the key to the account. You help me get those, and I give you your eyes back.

Harrison turned his face toward her voice. You're insane.

Give me seven days, Sera said. If you don't see light-just light-in seven days, you can throw me to the wolves. Or into the ocean. I don't care.

Harrison weighed the odds. He was dying anyway.

Fine. But if you're lying... I will kill you myself.

Deal.

Sera stood up. She took his hand. His palm was rough, calloused.

She went to work immediately. She retrieved the leather roll from the hem of her dress and selected several needles.

Lie down on the floor. In the corner. The cameras can't see the floor there.

Harrison hesitated, then lowered himself onto the carpet. Sera knelt beside him.

She smelled of rain and cheap drugstore shampoo. It was... clean.

She touched his face. Her fingers were cool, professional.

This will sting.

She inserted the first needle into the temple. Then the bridge of the nose. Then the sensitive skin under the eye.

Harrison flinched, but didn't make a sound.

Sera worked fast. She could feel the tension in his facial muscles.

Relax, she whispered. Her breath fanned across his cheek.

For twenty minutes, silence. Harrison focused on her breathing. It was steady.

Okay. I'm taking them out.

She removed the needles. Open your eyes.

Harrison opened them. The darkness was still there. But... in the center of his vision, the impenetrable black had turned to a dark, muddy gray.

It wasn't sight. But it wasn't nothing.

He let out a breath he didn't know he was holding.

Sera saw the shock on his face.

Don't tell anyone, she warned. Especially Sophia. To them, you're still blind.

Harrison sat up. He reached into his pocket and pulled out a sleek, black metal card. He tossed it onto her lap.

Buy some decent clothes. You look like a beggar. And get whatever medical supplies you need.

Sera picked up the card. It was heavy. Unlimited limit.

She smiled. It was the first real smile she'd had in years.

Pleasure doing business with you, husband.

The Quinn mansion was under siege.

Beatrice Sterling didn't knock. She didn't ring the bell. Her security team simply pushed past the sputtering maid.

Jerome and Lydia were in the living room, drinking champagne, celebrating the "sale" of Sera. They froze as Beatrice swept in, bringing the cold air with her.

Mrs. Sterling! Lydia stood up, plastering a nervous smile on her face. What a lovely surprise. We were just-

Beatrice picked up the champagne bottle and smashed it onto the coffee table. Glass and expensive bubbles exploded everywhere.

Jerome yelped and jumped back.

You think I'm a fool? Beatrice hissed. You sent me a defective product. A lying, manipulative little stray.

Lydia went pale. Sera? What did she do?

She's an embarrassment! Beatrice shouted. But she's a Sterling now. And because she's a Sterling, her shame is my shame. And I blame the source.

Tiffany walked in, chewing gum. What's going on? Did the blind freak send her back already?

The room went dead silent.

Beatrice turned slowly to look at Tiffany.

What did you call him?

Tiffany rolled her eyes. Harrison. The blind freak. Everyone knows it.

Beatrice snapped her fingers.

The bodyguard closest to Tiffany stepped forward. He didn't hesitate. He swung his hand-a heavy, open-palm slap that connected with Tiffany's cheek like a thunderclap.

Tiffany spun around and hit the floor. She screamed, clutching her face. Blood trickled from her lip.

My baby! Lydia shrieked, dropping to her knees beside her daughter.

Beatrice looked down at them with absolute disgust.

Disrespect the Sterling name again, and she loses the tongue.

She turned to Jerome, who was shaking so hard his knees were knocking together.

For the insult of sending me that girl, and for raising such a vulgar creature as this one... Beatrice pointed at Tiffany.I'm taking five percent of Quinn Enterprises. Transfer the shares by morning, or I pull all Sterling capital from your accounts. You'll be bankrupt by noon.

Jerome gasped. Five percent? That's... that's millions!

Consider it a penalty fee.

Beatrice turned and marched out.

Lydia held Tiffany, rocking her. Her eyes were filled with venom.

Sera did this, Lydia hissed. She turned them against us.

She grabbed her phone. She dialed a number.

Hello? Is this The Daily Mail? I have a scoop. The new Mrs. Sterling... she's abusing her disabled husband. I have proof.

At Sterling Manor, Sera was sitting on the floor of the bedroom, surrounded by delivery boxes. She was humming.

Harrison was in his chair, listening to an audiobook at double speed.

You're cheerful, he noted.

Sera checked her phone. A contact named "Ghost" had just texted her: Quinn stock dropped 5%. Tiffany Quinn admitted to ER with facial contusion.

Just reading the news, Sera said. It seems karma has a really quick delivery service.

Harrison smirked. Beatrice?

Beatrice.

Good, Harrison said.